Theodora: Empress of Byzantium (Mark Magowan Books) (15 page)

Most historians agree that by 518 Theodora had gone to the northern coast of the African continent as part of Hecebolus’s entourage. Biographers tend to see this journey as an exotic, sentimental interlude: a languid sea voyage under the stars, almost a hedonistic cruise. But they neglect other elements of the couple’s relationship, which was the actress and courtesan Theodora’s first major known union with a powerful man. And so it behooves us to look deeper into her affair with Hecebolus, not least because she used the lessons of that experience in her triumphant later union with the man who was to become the most powerful of the powerful, Justinian.

Hecebolus hailed from the great Mediterranean Levant, the ancient “Phoenician” city of Tyre (now Sur, Lebanon), which was at the time the capital and the ecclesiastical seat of the Roman province of Phoenice Maritima. For centuries, it had been the leading manufacturing center for the royal purple dye and purple garments that, against all expectations, Theodora would wear someday on the imperial throne. But the manufacture of high-quality goods was not Tyre’s sole contribution to civilization: it was also famous for its entertainment. The most ancient fables were said to come from Tyre, and its inhabitants were reputed to be spellbinding—though not always reliable—storytellers. The city was known for its Hippodrome with Green and Blue teams, its amphitheaters, the excellence of its actors, and its numerous pleasure houses.
If the expression “quality of life” had existed then, Tyre would have been called one of the great quality-of-life cities; and Hecebolus most probably embodied its spirit.

Those who claim Syrian origins for Theodora interpret her relationship with Hecebolus the “Phoenician” as proof of an ethnic link. Some theorize that the couple spoke a sort of Aramaic language that was widely used in the Mediterranean Levant (spoken by about ten million people as a popular alternative to the official Latin and Greek). But the two met in Constantinople, where Greek was the predominant language, and they must have spoken Greek together;
Hecebolus
is a Greek term, an ancient appellation of the gods Apollo and Artemis.
³

Ethnicity was not a factor in Hecebolus and Theodora becoming a couple. But the environment in which they met was certainly a factor; another was the set of goals that they shared; and the most important factor was Theodora’s strong will. She had her reasons for choosing Hecebolus from among all her admirers and for stepping across her “shadow line” with him. They were united by different but complementary quests for advancement and promotion. Certainly, the young Theodora knew how to choose as she rose to power, just as her man, who aspired to rule a province of the empire, was careful about the circles he moved in—even though he might have had a taste for actresses and the variety shows that were major attractions in his hometown of Tyre. It is not unlikely that the two met through the Blue faction.

It has often been suggested that Hecebolus was a trader, but this is only one of many possibilities. Perhaps in Tyre he had a supervisory role in the imperial works that produced purple-dyed cloth, or other textile products, or glassware. Given the importance of Tyre as a port, he could also have been a local shipowner with strong ties to the capital: the Greek Mediterranean has always had shipping magnates, and they have always had splendid female companions (even in modern times). Or perhaps he came from high-ranking Hellenized circles in the provinces that had long been the backbone of society in the eastern part of the empire. In this case, he would probably have studied at the prestigious law school of Berytus (today’s Beirut), a few miles north of Tyre, the same university that educated Procopius (whose hometown,
Caesarea, lay slightly south of Tyre along the coast). Later, Hecebolus would have traveled to Constantinople in search of powerful contacts that would help in his swift ascent to lofty positions and a successful government career.

Whatever his background, Hecebolus noticed Theodora: perhaps it happened at a dinner, or at the theater, or in both places. He must have sent tangible proof of his devotion, and she must have finally accepted it; they met; Hecebolus must have considered her unique, since he decided to take her with him to Pentapolis (or accepted her proposal to join him). His appointment as governor of the province probably came in exchange for a substantial bribe, in accordance with the customary practice of buying and selling public offices, part and parcel of the patronage system of the imperial administration.

At his side, Theodora could be no more than his concubine. She was probably officially introduced as an “escort,” maybe even a “maid” in his retinue. This was the meaning of the “most shameful” services mentioned in the
Secret History
. Of course, in the capital an imperial governor could not marry a mime actress, no matter how widely she was celebrated as a new Helen of the civilized Christian world, and no matter how much others envied his sharing his free time and his bed with such a jewel.

It’s not hard to understand how Theodora “won the heart” of Hecebolus, for everyone came under her spell. The opposite is what is important in this story: understanding why she chose to attach herself to him. The theater star of the capital left Constantinople, “Beacon of the Ecumene,” for a remote province, in an ambiguous position, because she invested in Hecebolus with determination and resolve: she chose
him
over everyone else. And presumably it was not because he told funny stories about Tyre. Evidently Hecebolus looked like he could give her what she needed most, a safe haven for her ship.

Theodora’s choice and her departure are important not just from the point of view of chronology or psychology. They must be seen anthropologically, insofar as they involve a radical change in the perspective of a woman who had already moved up from being a “troop”
courtesan to being a selective “knight.” Just as she had glimpsed a light at the end of the underground passageways of the Kynêgion, Theodora saw a light shining ahead in her life’s corridor: the possibility of becoming a “lady.” This is why she gave up all other certainties or attractive possibilities and followed Hecebolus.

Eager to succeed, she agreed to become a secondary figure in his retinue, but not because of an infatuation: she was quite lucid when she made her decision. By leaving the stage, by devoting herself to Hecebolus, and through his support, she believed that she would surely become wealthy, and then become his wife. Years later, she would be able to come back to the city purged of the labels of infamy and indignity, identified with other, more appropriate qualifications. She would definitely be a lady, the consort of a man who by that time would be important. To respect all the ancient laws and to keep up appearances, he could and would have to marry her before being allowed to reap the highest honors.

It must have seemed to her a masterpiece of cunning, a transformation worthy of Ulysses: to conquer the heart of the capital by traveling through the outermost edge of the provinces. Her shadow line went through Pentapolis.

As soft and enticing as her body was, and as flexible as her behavior was, her character was just as unyielding. She knew that her roots put her too far below the powerful people who counted in the city, where her reputation had been compromised. Therefore, the man who suited her plan could not be someone from Constantinople, although he also could not be a stranger to the city. Hecebolus was the perfect man for the job. Thanks to the bribe he had paid and the connections he had built, he was appointed governor of a province that was sufficiently rich (in wheat, olives, and fish) that he could expect to become even wealthier through a careful policy of tax collection and political networking. At the same time, Pentapolis was sufficiently distant from the capital for any of his abuses not to reach attentive ears too soon or too loudly. As for Theodora, she would accept a few years in the provinces as long as she could become a lady.

+ + +

The two lovers were not welcomed by the applause of a theater audience or by dinner guests reclining on triclinia. They were received only by the sands of the northern shores of Africa (today’s eastern Libya). The province of Pentapolis had been carved from the vast former province of Cyrenaica, named for the ancient and illustrious city of Cyrene. It was the homeland of the Biblical Simon, who had shared the weight of the cross with Jesus, and later of Sinesius (c. 370–415), a neo-Platonist poet and authoritative Christian bishop who denied absolution to imperial authorities who abused civilians “in the name of the empire.” For Hecebolus and Theodora, that act was an invitation to consider that the exercise of power is a grave matter.

Pentapolis was composed of “five cities” (
pente poleis
): Teuchira, Barka, Ptolemais, Boreium, and Apollonia. Apollonia, the capital, was about twenty days’ journey from Alexandria, the only city that could compete with Constantinople as a cultural and ethnic melting pot of the Mediterranean, and the most efficient patriarchate of the Christian ecclesiastical organization. Alexandria was also the vital port that, each September, sent transport ships loaded with wheat—“the happy cargo”—toward Constantinople to bring food to the urban masses.

So while Pentapolis may not have been an actual place of exile, it was at least a frontier: it separated the urban fabric of the empire of the thousand cities
⁴
from the desolate desert, dividing the civilized Mediterranean basin of wheat fields, vineyards, and olive orchards from the barbarian wilds of the hinterland, source of frequent armed raids by troglodytic tribes such as the “Mauri.” What’s more, Pentapolis was close to the kingdom of the Arian Vandals who, after sacking Rome in 455, used the most formidable fleet in the Mediterranean to conquer all of northwest Africa.

Around the year 518, when Hecebolus and Theodora were in Pentapolis, the empire’s provinces were administered by separate civilian and military authorities. The highest local military chief
⁵
was charged in particular with providing safe operating planning and a regular supply of food and weapons to the troops strung along the increasingly fortified defenses built to repel raids by the hinterland nomads. Governor Hecebolus, on the other hand, was the chief civilian administrator
in charge of justice and tax collection, aided by a large corps of assistants and technicians. It was an office in which he could potentially rake in a lot of local wealth, provided he did not cross paths with any new Sinesius—any churchman who defended the weak. Luckily for Hecebolus, the proximity to the patriarchal see of Alexandria meant that the local clergy was pro-Monophysite—they recognized only one, divine nature for Christ. And the most Monophysite emperor of all time was Anastasius, who must have approved Hecebolus’s appointment as provincial governor. The appointee had probably paid personal homage to the ruler before taking office. On that occasion, the emperor, who had a policy of moderation, might have advised him to avoid extreme behavior. Perhaps Hecebolus, in recounting the meeting to Theodora, further embellished the already extraordinary seductions of the court. It was no accident if he was a master storyteller—after all, he had been born in Tyre.

It’s unlikely that Theodora found Apollonia, the capital of Pentapolis, particularly seductive. It was hardly the destination of an ideal journey, such as the rare excursions made in late antiquity by noblewomen such as Athenais-Eudocia (c. 400–460), the learned wife of Emperor Theodosius II, or Egeria (Etheria), author of an enchanting
Itinerarium
(Travels). Protected by their names and their prestige, they had gone to the illustrious Christian sites of the Holy Land and brought even greater dignity to their souls by following the very footprints of the Savior in Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Jerusalem. Theodora, however, daughter of the Hippodrome and the Kynêgion, had left the city for the homeland of the Cyrenian, not of the Savior. And if Hecebolus was a savior for her, he was so only on a very private—not universal—level. He brought not the Gospel of love, but earthly authority over the subjects of his province.

Recent archaeological excavations in Apollonia, in particular of the mansion known as the Palace of the Dux or leader
⁶
(a dwelling somewhat similar to the Arab-Mediterranean houses known as
dar
), give us some clue as to what might have been the home of Hecebolus and his concubine, Theodora. It was a stone structure built to offer shelter from
the scorching summer sun, with diminutive windows overlooking the street and rooms carved out of stone like small caves. The rooms ran directly into one another without any concessions to our modern notion of privacy: no passageways skirted around the chambers. Clearly very few rooms in the palace afforded any privacy: perhaps there was a chapel for Christian worship, or a room with erotic frescoes (such as those in Pompeii) used by Hecebolus and Theodora when they wanted to be alone. One important attraction of the house was undoubtedly the large peristyle with dancing fountains and small cages holding animals such as turtles, peacocks, or migrating cranes captured in the winter as they came to the marshes of Pentapolis. Perhaps Theodora, sitting in the garden, likened herself to the migrating cranes.

She must have listened closely when Hecebolus spoke. She knew that some men enjoyed listing their numerous weighty tasks with their attendant duties and problems. She also knew how to steer these men toward different pleasures than the contemplation of their success. But this was not just any passing fellow: she gave Hecebolus her very special attention as he talked. He probably told her about his plans for becoming wealthy. Told her his ideas for speculating on the tax money collected in the province, and the actual amount he would deposit in the imperial treasury. Told her about how he settled trials. Told her his tactics for cautiously drawing in, and then paying off, the most influential local landowners, whose consent and assistance he needed in order to control the territory. Told her about his approaching the upper clergy (which was linked to the large landowners by close family or business ties), for the marriage that was to crown their journey to Pentapolis could happen only with proper support and assistance. Only then could they return to the capital, transformed and richer than before.